Me When Someone Says Byler Isn't Gonna Happen:

useless life update bc i can't sleep: i looked in the mirror yesterday like really Looked looked n realized tht what was once a few white hairs at my hairline has now started looking like the beginning of a full on streak. feeling very 2d fictional character bc of this, perhaps even rather m—[SNIPED]

i need 33,36 and 12 with byler for mental health reasons

It's Christmas Eve, and there's a knock at the door.

Will is sprawled out on the couch, half-watching some Christmas special with Hopper sitting beside him smoking a cigarette that he occasionally holds out for Will to take a drag off of. Joyce is in the kitchen, bustling about making dinner, and every time she catches Hopper handing Will the cigarette she sends them both a disapproving look that Hopper returns with a shrug.

Will's in a bit of a mood, anyway, and he can tell Hopper notices, because he's being far less gruff than usual, sitting quietly with his cigarette and occasionally shooting Will indecipherable looks. And- okay, Will knows he's being a little ridiculous, but he's down, okay? It's his first time back home since starting college this fall, and the main appeal of Christmas had been getting to see one Mike Wheeler, who's at a different college a whole three states away, who he hasn't seen in almost three weeks now, who he misses something fierce even though, technically speaking, the two of them have survived much worse.

But then Mike had had too much work to do, too many things to study for, too many shifts to take at the diner he works at part-time, too many arguments with his parents to justify a trip home to see them, and he'd called Will with a heavy tone and informed him that I just don't think I can go back to Hawkins right now, I'm sorry, I love you, I'll see you soon, okay?

And now someone's knocking at the door, and Will can't bring himself to care who it is because he knows that it's not his boyfriend, and he doesn't much care about anything else right now.

Will glances half-heartedly toward the door, too comfortable in his petty melancholy to really want to get up. "Mom, someone's at the door," he calls, even though he's closer to the door, and he hopes that the pity his parents are feeling for him will extend far enough to excuse his vaguely shitty behavior. It's probably Jonathan or El, who are both scheduled to get in later tonight, but maybe one of their flights got moved up or something, and Will does want to see his siblings, he does, but he also really, really doesn't want to get up from the couch and they both have keys anyway, so surely they can fend for themselves.

Joyce appears from around the corner, drying her hands on a towel and glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Oh," she says, a small smile spreading over her face. "Could you get that, sweetie?"

Will frowns at her. "Do I have to?"

"We're watching something," Hopper agrees, and Joyce shoots him a look.

"Will, honey, I think it's for you," Joyce says, widening her eyes at Hopper meaningfully, and he stares back at her, unperturbed. "Can you get it, please?"

There's another knock, and Will squints at his mother as he lifts himself off of the couch and reluctantly heads for the door. The rest of the Party doesn't show up till tomorrow, he knows, all at staggered times and with various plans for the day. He probably won't get to see them for a couple days, what with family traditions and everything. Clearly, his mother is up to something.

Will opens the door, and immediately does a double take.

Mike Wheeler is standing on his doorstep, in all his six-foot-one, long-haired and dark-eyed glory, and he lifts his hand in a small wave, smiling evenly. "Hi."

Will whips around to face his mother, one hand gripping the doorjamb for dear life as he glances frantically back and forth between her and the boy on his doorstep. "Wh- how did you- what the fuck?" he splutters, cheeks reddening as he drinks in the sight of his boyfriend, here and present and all wrapped up in a winter coat that's three sizes too big for him, looking, quite frankly, like a complete idiot, but- he's Will's idiot.

Joyce grins, entirely pleased with herself. "Mike was upset about missing Christmas," she says, leaning one hip against the arm of the sofa like this is the most normal thing in the world, "So I offered him a place to stay for a couple days."

Will opens his mouth, then closes it again, turning back to Mike, who's grinning widely. "It was super last-minute," he tells Will quietly, shifting a little closer, "otherwise I would have told you, but I was just sitting in my dorm yesterday and it hit me all at once that I couldn't miss Christmas with you, especially not over something as stupid as my parents and school and shit, so I called your mom in a panic and we got me on a plane here and- oof," he cuts himself off as Will rockets into his arms, shoving his face into the crook of Mike's neck and throwing his arms around his waist. Mike laughs quietly, catching him easily and pulling him close, one hand in Will's hair as he kisses the side of his head.

"Hi," Will murmurs into his neck, voice muffled by the down of Mike's jacket, squeezing him as tightly as he can without hurting him. "Hi, I love you, I missed you, I'm so glad you're here."

Faintly, he makes out the sounds of Joyce saying something to Hopper, and the soft rustling of Hopper standing up from the couch and, presumably, following Joyce into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

"I missed you too," Mike whispers in Will's ear, and the feeling of his warm breath against his face, tactile and real and not static with interference from the phone, is enough for a few tears to leak out the corners of Will's eyes. "I missed you so much, you have no idea."

A giddy laugh bubbles up from Will's ribcage, and he bends his knees, arms shifting to lift Mike into the air, Mike's arms winding their way around Will's neck as he laughs good-naturedly. Will hugs him tighter, Mike's legs dangling off the ground, and spins him around once, enjoying the solid weight of Mike in his arms. "Will!" Mike yelps, clinging to him, "Will, baby, put me down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

This is probably true, and the magic of Mike's visit would be significantly marred by a trip to the hospital, so Will dutifully loosens his grip on Mike, letting him slide back down until his feet touch the ground. Mike smiles down at him, arms still around Will's neck, and Will reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of Mike's eyes, gentle and soft and relishing the warmth of Mike's face against his fingertips. He tucks the hair behind Mike's ear, leaving his hand resting gently on the side of his face, and swipes a thumb over Mike's jaw, smiling back at him.

"I love you," Mike says, voice honey-sweet and giddy with happiness, and Will wastes no time in pushing forward, pressing his lips against Mike's and feeling his smile against his mouth. Mike tugs him closer, still smiling like an idiot into the kiss, but Will can't blame him when he giggles softly against Mike's lips, overwhelmed and still not entirely sure he's not dreaming. But then Mike is nudging closer, opening his mouth and kissing Will open and slow, and Will sinks into the reality of him, sure it's not a dream because there's no way his brain could have predicted how good this would feel, having Mike in his arms again, his lips slotted against Will's.

Will pulls back a little dazedly, hands still on Mike's face, and he looks so beautiful, lips kissed red and cheeks pink from the cold, and Will's forgotten all about his melancholy when he has this work of art smiling down at him.

"You've been smoking," Mike observes, not particularly sounding like he minds, and Will rolls his eyes even as a smile tugs at his lips.

"Shut up, I was sad," he complains, shoving his face back into Mike's neck.

"Was I worth the surprise?" Mike asks softly, kissing the top of his head and winding a hand through Will's hair.

Will huffs a laugh, incredulous that he even has to ask, and he pulls back to stare up at Mike. "Yes," he says, grinning like an idiot, "Yes, you're worth- everything, I can't believe- yes."

"Good," Mike says, kissing the tip of Will's nose once, twice. "Do you think I could come inside now? It's fucking freezing outside."

"Oh, right," Will laughs, stepping away just enough to allow Mike into the house and watching with a warm feeling blooming in his chest as Mike shrugs off his jacket. Mike Wheeler is in his house. Mike Wheeler is here, beside Will, and it's Christmas, and Will is in love.

He can't help himself when he strides over to Mike and wraps himself around him, arms tight around his waist and at a slightly awkward angle, pressing his cheek into the fabric of Mike's sweater. Mike laughs, hands grasping at Will's arms where they're thrown around his waist, and Will takes a shaky breath, happiness seeping through every inch of his body.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispers, tilting his head until his chin rests on Mike's shoulder, peering lovingly up at him through his lashes, and Mike meets his eyes with a sappy smile, like he's thinking all the same things that Will is.

"Merry Christmas, Will."

bloody kisses (a death in the family)

a spidermike comic... ☹️

based on the infamous tasm2 scene 💔

Only Thing On My Mind

(Byler makeout fic ask/request for @iloveheadphones)

No one knows this, but it’s their 6th month anniversary. Mike and Will have been actual boyfriends for that long and it’s honestly kind of incredible. They’ve shared a lot with each other, back when they were merely friends. Best friends. From crayons to homework answers to food and so much more. This is different though. Good. No, more like better! 

This time, instead of sharing something that could easily be considered normal friend behavior, Mike and Will have gone above and beyond, and shared their once guarded hearts freely with each other. Completely open and vulnerable. Ready to be doted on and loved. The ultimate treasure, so priceless and unique and in their grasps, finally, fucking finally. Simply put, they’re happy, and because Mike’s a sucker for puns, he substitutes happy for “gay” now that he’s comfortable saying it. They're gay and Will rolls his eyes at the bad joke Mike giggles in his ear often. 

“Hey, Will?” Lucas asks one day when the Party’s sitting in Mike’s basement, going on a marathon of playing video games and munching on snacks, “You had your first kiss yet? Or are you saving it for someone special?”

All eyes are on him, except for a nervous Mike, who’s just a bit too obvious in his distress. It’s by the grace of God that Mike’s always been naturally weird so their mutual friends don’t bother pointing out how their dear leader nearly spits out his soda all over an oblivious Dustin and Max. Will’s feeling conflicted. Half trying not to laugh at his boyfriend’s lack of tact, seeing Mike choke-cough-swallow his drink down. The other half is Will trying not to shout to the world how he not only has had his first kiss, but he’s also the self-proclaimed Hickey King. 

Mike has used the excuses of getting bit by mosquitos, and having sensitive skin that bruises too easy, in order to hide the fact that Will could be a vampire or possibly a cannibal because the boy likes to bite. 

An air of confidence whirls around Will when he cheekily grins and boldly announces, “Yeah, actually, I have.” 

All goes still and quiet after a collective gasp resonates among them. Then there’s uproar. Mike feels like he’ll die.

“WILLIAM!” El and Max say the first part of Will’s government name in shock, jaws dropped, as Lucas and Dustin finish the last part screaming elatedly, proud smirks plastered. “BYERS!”

Will laughs at their reactions, somewhat knowing that they all expected him to do the usual, shy away or wistfully sigh that his time hasn’t come yet, with Mike his personal knight in shining armor, typically swooping in for the rescue by changing the subject. That was when he had nothing to give them, but Will's feeling mischievous lately. Knows that Mike’s sweating bullets, and maybe Will’s a dormant bully all along because he rather enjoys seeing his curly haired boyfriend brightly blush, watching Mike subconsciously shield his long kissable neck that’s not exactly covered in vicious mosquito bites as their dear leader has claimed.

Video game abandoned, Lucas and Dustin hurry to flank Will, ready to interrogate, simultaneously patting him on the back in congratulations, and by doing so they carelessly push Mike out of his rightful seat on the couch beside the man of the hour, onto the less comfy floor. What a way to treat the host, sheesh.

“Argh!” Mike yelps pitifully as he falls halfway on Max, who shoves him off her quite roughly, but to be fair he is really heavy for her petite body to be squished under.

El, the only friend Mike considers an angel to his Hellfire Demon Party, has the decency to check on him, though the urge to be nosy and question her brother (maybe annoy him now that she’s embraced her sister role fully) is hailing her.

“Are you okay?” She peeps down at Mike sprawled on the floor akimbo. 

He gives a halfhearted thumbs up paired with a blank face, groaning. “Peachy.”

They look towards the couch, where Max has joined Lucas and Dustin in surrounding Will, begging for details and the sight reminds Mike of the gossip circles Karen runs with when mothers of Hawkins see each other in grocery store aisles or scheduled book club meetings. As far as the secret couple’s friends are concerned, Will’s technically a late bloomer so this info dump is a big deal.

“Was it a girl in Lenora?” 

“Hawkins? It’s gotta be!”

“No, it’s a random chick on that road trip from Cali to here, right?”

Will keeps laughing at all the wrong answers, the Party growing more frustrated, and Mike hoping none of them wonder why he’s suspiciously not participating when, according to his actions from that one infamous Halloween, he’s the most possessive over Will out of the friend group that should definitely be demanding the truth because friends don't lie by omission.

“Sorry,” Will’s grin is cute and he puts on some gentlemanly accent. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Booooo!” 

That’s how it goes for a few minutes, them trying and failing to get Will to give away even the tiniest bit of descriptions, and El’s horrified to know that her brother is immune to her pleading puppy dog eyes (that usually worked on Jonathan and Hopper, damn).

“Cookies!” Mike abruptly hollers as he jumps to his feet, causing everyone to halt their speech to eye him, perplexed. He gestures his arms as wildly as when he attempted convincing people to sub for Eddie’s Hellfire campaign. “Who wants them? Mom bought the ready-to-bake ones and since we’re all here…”

“Actually, that does sound like a good idea.” Lucas only agrees because his stomach starts howling, his appetite more voracious now that he’s a certified athlete burning calories.

Dustin, El, and Max also agree that they could go for the sweet treat. Mike’s nerves calm down a tad, having successfully deflected the “Who’s Will Kissing?” topic that sent him in a crisis. Last thing he needs is for their friends to know that Will’s far from innocent. Call him selfish, but Mike wants to be the only one reveling in that knowledge a little more, quite mesmerized by how unhinged Will can really be when he’s completely candid. Joyce’s off-her-rocker genes are strong in her sons, and Mike’s kind of horrified that he and Nancy can’t leave the Byers brothers alone even if they tried. 

“I’ll help Mike with the cookies.” Will offers, and there’s a glint in his eyes that has Mike already anticipating where this is going. “I can carry a tray of milk for us while Mike has the cooled off pan. We can pretend we're Santa.”

Oh gosh. Why is Mike’s boyfriend so naturally sneaky? None of their friends suspect anything. Some even encourage Will to go so Mike won’t burn the cookies, not trusting the raven haired boy’s baking skills at all. 

“Dunking cookies in milk is the best! Can’t wait to eat.” Dustin says, unaware of Will licking his lips salaciously while following an eager Mike up the basement stairs.

Will parrots quietly under his breath. “I can’t wait to eat, either.”   

********

The kitchen is supposed to be a sacred place, but with all of Mike’s family out of the house doing errands or other activities, and with the rest of the Party distracted by leveling up in video games, Mike and Will take the opportunity alone to start their 6 month anniversary festivities early. 

“Swear on my life,” Mike hisses a feeble threat as Will devilishly presses him against the kitchen wall, a hand firmly on Mike's chest, the other grasping Mike's waist. “If you leave another mark I’m gonna have to steal my mom’s makeup and learn how to use her concealer.”

Will’s only half-listening, famished lips already latching onto the exposed patch of skin on Mike’s pale throat, mouthing along from the jawline to the collarbone to the crook of the shoulder and base of the neck. “Then you better get to learning. Think makeup would look pretty good on you.” He jokes.

The feel of Will’s sloppy warm kisses combined with his deliberate humming sends violent tremors throughout Mike’s body, his knees going wobbly weak. He’s glad the wall and Will is supporting his weight or he might collapse. Mike’s shaky squeaky breath hitches, heart stuttering when he felt the familiar slight sharp pain of Will’s teeth sink into his neck. It’s hard enough to leave imprints, but soft enough to not break skin. Mike’s irritated flesh begins to bloom sanguine red beneath Will’s velvety lips, especially when Will switches from aggressive biting to playful sucking in a gentle attempt to soothe. It causes Mike to loudly gasp and grip tighter onto the hem of Will’s sweater, right hand bunching the fabric up in his fist. His left hand flies to Will’s head, threading his bony fingers into silky syrupy brown hair, pushing his boyfriend further into him as if they could become one just from sticking together like paper mache.

Will continues to suck on his bite mark until he’s satisfied with his work, his ears enjoying the whispered mix of curses and praises escaping from behind Mike’s clenched teeth as he involuntarily yet lightly bangs the back of his head on the wall, all tingly and wired. His left hand falls from Will’s hair, fingers tracing the shorter boy’s nape, teasingly rubbing small circles, creating goosebumps with his scratching nails that has Will giving an appreciative purr, which again sends vibrations to Mike’s throat and spreads beyond that bundle of nerves. They were in perfect harmony, a symbiosis some say, with trading pleasures to amplify the experience. Both in agreement to desperately make out as a means to pass the time while their chocolate chip cookies bake in the oven for twenty minutes.

The sound of rushed steps from the basement is thunderous and the couple separate in haste, struggling to fix their clothes and hair. Mike looks absolutely wrecked and Will can’t stop feeling smug.

“Mike! Lucas beat your high score!” Dustin informs the second he’s in their presence and thankfully, he cares more for Mario rather than Mike’s blotchy face and hushed ravenous panting.

“Whoa! No way!” Will manages to speak and gain Dustin's full attention, hand wiping his mouth and then splaying to cover his own feral expression, despite his evidently blown pupils diminishing his hazel irises.

Dustin beckons them to come downstairs to see for themselves, after the cookies are done of course (priority people), and then leaves to complain about Lucas getting coached by Max. 

Once alone again, Mike reluctantly asks Will how bad the damage is, to which Will supplies sheepishly as he scratches his cheek, “Probably wanna say you got bit by a spider this time. It has got to be your biggest and worst hickey as of date.”

“I hate you.” Mike exaggerates, just sensing his neck coloring a riotous purplish-blue, pinching the bridge of his nose in vexation.

********

It’s a long night. The Party plans on sleeping over, although Karen prefers the girls to sleep upstairs in Mike’s room while the boys have the basement. Somehow, the spider bite lie is believable considering its summer and all sorts of pre-historic creepy crawlies are afoot (though Max is doubtful, but remains silent), and when the Wheeler family return home after running whatever errands, Karen justly freaks out and forces Mike to put on healing ointment.

“I’m taking you to the doctor’s for an allergy test. This sensitive skin issue is getting out of hand. And what kind of spider bit you, again? Did you kill it? Is it still prowling my house?” She worries and Mike internally vows to pay Will back for his uncontrollable gnawing tendencies. 

Eventually, the Party prepares for bed. Max and El sleepily walk upstairs and bid the boys a goodnight. Dustin and Lucas get cozy in their sleeping bags. Currently, Mike’s laying on the couch and Will occupies the basement bathroom to brush his teeth. This is routine. Ever since they were kids. Dustin would change into his pajamas and brush his teeth first, then Lucas, then Will, and lastly Mike. Because they did things in that order, that meant Dustin would pass out first, then Lucas, then Will, and finally Mike - who’d stumble out the bathroom to all three of his friends snoring and drooling away - waiting for him to turn off the ceiling light overhead.

Like clockwork, the moment Will started to run the tap to wet his toothbrush, Mike saw Dustin and Lucas slip into slumber with ease - old habits die hard. He quickly leaves the couch to tiptoe to the bathroom, the door ajar. Mike cracks the door open more and Will can spot him in the mirror’s reflection, standing behind him.

“S’not your turn yet. It’s mine.” Will muffles with a mouthful of toothpaste that he spits out to rinse. “See! Finally done. Your turn now.”

Swiftly, Mike breaches the threshold, shuts the door, and locks it (memories of Jonathan barging in haunt the Wheeler's sole son daily).

He clicks his tongue, tsking, “That’s where you’re mistaken, Will. It’s actually my turn. My turn to get…. Dun, dun, dun… revenge!”

“Huh?” Will sets down his toothbrush on the sink, twisting around to face Mike, and is caught off guard when his boyfriend pounces on him animal kingdom style.

Stolen kisses taste better. Their lips connect, fit together like puzzle pieces and Lego toy sets. Just like their childish games, Mike plays to win. His large hands are cupping Will's jaw, thumbs smoothing the skin under the shorter boy's lidded eyes. He gives ample affectionate pecks to a pliant Will, who's clasping onto Mike's wrists, squeezing and using his own thumbs to yearningly caress the pulse points of his towering boyfriend. Soon, Mike's insatiable tongue bravely licks at the seam of Will's swollen lips. It doesn't take much for Will to comply, and Mike takes advantage, savoring the fresh icy spearmint contrasted with heated smooches for a hot and cold sensation that sparks up jolting electricity, quick flashes like lightning.

"Mike." Will rasps when his lips are begrudgingly freed.

Dark eyes are even darker, tinged with devious intent, and suddenly Will's on the receiving end of being bitten, branded by Mike's pearly whites while also leaning on the sink, some of the toiletry items like soap and the soap dish falling carelessly to the tiled floor. His only warning is the humorous Transylvanian accent Mike jauntily gives a whirl, "I want to suck your blood."

It makes Will quiver and pull Mike closer to him, flush against, for Mike had the audacity to mumble that in his ear, gingerly nipping at his earlobe. Teeth snatching onto the very spot where girls get piercings. Will’s mouth falls open wide and eyes screw shut, voice unexpectedly roaring in rapture that would definitely wake up the entire household if unchecked. Luckily, Mike has spectacular foresight, sliding one of his hands from cupping Will’s jaw to smother his shrilling mouth. Mike’s other hand snakes across his boyfriend’s back and bends him backwards in a faux ballroom dance dip, arching him over the sink’s edge to the point where Will’s head touches the cool mirror glass. This new angle gives Mike full access to the love of his life’s splattered with moles throat, Will’s Adam’s apple bobbing with every gulp of sheer excitement, inviting. Mike lowers his pink lips to map out a trail along the enticing junctions, biting and suckling and lapping, undaunted at the evidence he’s tagging. Just like his immature days of middle school graffiti. Except this time it’s with his tongue and teeth, not a permanent marker and paint spray can.

Between Will’s muted palatable babbles suppressed by Mike’s left hand, plus his flexing back muscles that Mike’s right hand strokes at a risky area of his spine, and the breathtaking buzz that quakes his every senses, it’s not too surprising when the bathroom light flickers rapidly - as if it’s short circuiting. Mike’s grown accustomed to it. Will’s powers tend to activate when overstimulated. He knows that’s one of the reasons Will tries to lead in their private amorous exertions. Because if Will took the lead, then he could control the pacing and himself better. Not to become undone from Mike’s calculated cradling that makes up for all the time wasted when they could’ve been officially dating pre-Vecna and awkward dancing with girls. So far, Will only trusts Mike to keep this secret of theirs, besides their secret relationship. He hasn’t processed why he has powers yet.

His screwed shut hazel eyes pop open when Mike’s wicked lips siphoned a patch of skin in just the right way that had his nose start bleeding from both nostrils instantly, and the flickering lightbulb above them exploded, glass raining down on them and scattering everywhere.

“Shit!” They both swear in sync, bracing themselves to block the raining glass shards. Okay, alright, Mike perhaps overdid it with his silly hickey revenge. That’s not very herolike behavior of him.

They hear multiple stomping and stumbling noises from beyond the bathroom door. Both in the basement and up above on the ground floor. If it wasn’t pitch black, they’d see each other’s shared looks, reading each other’s minds from mere eye contact - Will must’ve broken every lightbulb in the house. Damn.

“Mike! Will! Where the fuck are you guys?!” Lucas shouts and Mike feels for the bathroom door, careful to not step on any shards and slice his bare feet. At least Will has socks and slippers on.

“I’m by the washer and dryer!” Mike lies, slithering out the bathroom before Will, rushing over to the adjacent location he claimed to be at. “Will’s still in the bathroom!”

That much was true. Will is still in the bathroom. It’d be suspicious if they both were there during this extremely uncanny blackout. Dustin has said something neither Mike nor Will can make out, but it’s all unimportant once the basement door opens.

“Are you boys okay down there?” It’s Karen, tone motherly and leveled. “Ted’s gone outside to see what happened. Apparently, the whole block is without power. The streetlights have all… Uh… exploded or cracked or something. Mr. Sinclair’s telling Ted he thinks it’s another weird earthquake since the lights were flickering strangely.”

“Bullshit!” Dustin exclaims in the darkness. “If it were that shouldn’t furniture be toppled over, too?!”

Mike effortlessly deadens Dustin’s prying. “Hey, now, it’s Hawkins. What’s new?”

“He’s right about that.” Lucas cosigns. “If it ain’t one thing, it’s another with this place.”

The boys decide to stay up using the Wheeler’s spare flashlights. The girls join them, El even tapping into the mindspace and finding nothing odd out of the ordinary since the Upside Down gates were permanently sealed. Another mystery for the Party to solve at daybreak. Until then, they huddled together and told ghost stories, making the most of it. Mike would hope one day to figure out exactly why Will's powers manifested and lingered, despite his connection to Vecna being severed.

*******

It’s early morning. Hours after Will accidentally ruined the power grid system of Mike and Lucas’s street. The electrical company’s out to fix things. Weather’s in their favor, blinding rain pouring as Mike and Will are the first ones up in their sleeping friend huddle to get dressed, throwing on hooded buttoned up rain coats (blue and yellow respectively) that hide their blemished necks efficiently. The couple’s not usually morning people, but with the Party unaware of their relationship and probably on the cusp of it, Mike and Will always stayed one step ahead just in case. The rest of them promptly wake up one after the other. With no power, the sleepover is cut short - so says Karen - and everyone leaves. Lucas drives Dustin and Max home, with El hitching a ride to stay with Max a little longer at her trailer. Mike opts to drive Will home, the Byers-Hopper house in the opposite direction of where Lucas’s going.

“We can’t let that happen again.” Mike chews on the inside of his cheek, blushing aflame when driving by the electrical workers scratching their heads at a broken streetlight. 

Will huffs, arms crossed, slinking into the passenger seat. “Whose fault do you think that is?”

“Well, you started it! You freaking vampire.” Mike rips his hood off to display Will’s mock spider bite hickey smudging his pale neck.

“Oh, yeah! That’s only one! You did a gazillion on me!” He copies Mike to show off his hickeys that seem to be the same amount as his moles, his neck almost two-toned.

They glare at each other for just a fraction of a second, the steam getting lukewarm. Neither can be too mad or peeved with each other. It’s in their nature to forgive the other. That’s just how they are. Mike does a peace offering, laying his hand on the armrest, palm side up, and Will automatically interlocks their fingers. Holding hands in the car is a few of their favorite hobbies. They pull up to Will’s home, not a single car in the driveway. Maybe, Hopper’s been spirited away by the station to investigate the power outage. Will has no idea where Jonathan or Joyce could be. But with Vecna gone and the Upside Down perished, the Byers don’t keep tabs on each other like they used to.

“Your folks out?” Mike wistfully probes, eyebrows waggish and dark eyes sly. 

Will thoughtfully glances his way. “Seems so.”

“Are you cold? Since it’s raining, y’know?” Mike’s expression is laced with suggestions.

“Just a little chilly. I could warm up more, though.” Will keeps the game going.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ten minutes later, they’re in the house, nearly tripping to the living room couch while pawing at each other. The drenched raincoats are pooled at the front door by the hat rack and various assorted shoes. Mike’s hair is a tad damp, and he squeals at Will needily tugging at the curls. Glossy puffy lips weld together, fast and hard. It’s with urgency. They stretch out on the couch, cramming in the cushions on their sides, limbs interwoven and taut, much like intricate Boy Scouts knots (something Mike and Lucas were forced to do for a brief stint in their childhood). Mike’s holding onto Will fiercely, preventing the other boy from falling off by pasting him to his chest and hooking his legs over his hip. Carnivorous messy kisses are exchanged. Will’s nibbles on Mike’s jutted bottom lip. In response, Mike creeps his hands under Will’s shirt, clawing at his vertebrae. 

“H-Happy anniversary, by the way. I mean to give you your gift sooner, but it’s not dry yet.” Will confesses between peppering kisses on Mike’s freckled face.

“Dry yet? Is it a painting?!” Mike sounds gleeful, or that be how ticklish he is, giggling at Will’s switch to butterfly kisses.

“Nope. I’m dabbling in a new media. Clay.” 

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“Well, my gift to you is two tickets to that art gallery coming to Indy.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did!”

“Indianapolis? Really?” Will stares smitten at Mike who brushes a stray hair behind his ear.

“Totally.”

“Sweet.”

They return to making out, calming down some to delicate touches and massages. Enshrouding tranquility luxuriates them. The rain stopped pouring buckets outside, but neither boy noticed. Too entranced in feeling the other up, immersed in being felt up, and their unconditional enthrallment is to be their rude awakening when a car pulls up in the driveway beside Mike’s. By now, their hair is disheveled and shirts are off. Reddening nail claw marks made from Mike streak Will. Hickeys sprinkle all on Mike’s clavicle, trapezius, shoulder, and sternum. The familiar thrum of Will’s body alerts him that his nose is going to bleed again if they don’t get ahold of themselves.

“Honey, I’m home!” Joyce calls, entering the house with Jonathan and Nancy hauling grocery bags. “You didn’t tell me Mike was dropping… You… Off…” She trails at the sight before her.

Stopping in her tracks, so does Jonathan and Nancy, all three gawk silently at Will and Mike scrambling for their shirts. They’ve been caught. Will’s not too bothered, considering Joyce and Jonathan know that he’s gay. It’s more of the fact that they didn’t know he actually got with his dream boy longterm crush turned true love. Mike, on the other hand, is mortified that he’s in this indecent position and of all people, his sister Nancy, is the first of his family to witness this. He could handle Jonathan and Joyce, but Nancy was a different story.

“Um… G-Good morning.” Mike stammers out as Will grabs his boyfriend’s wrist. 

Well, they certainly have some explaining to do.

___ 

End scene. To be continued or not.... Thanks for reading!       

demanding a scene where mike is minding his own business doing whatever and then looks up to see will walk by and the sunlight is hitting him just right and suddenly everything is in slow motion and mike is staring gaping cannot believe his eyes because will looks that good bonus points if will feels mike looking at him turns his head and gives him a wink because he knows exactly what he's doing

The byler tag will persevere💪 pull through😤and succeed in the end,🎉🎊🍾🍻🥳👏🎈🎁🙌

BYLER IS ENDGAME💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🦅🇺🇸🌎🏈

when the last scene of st5 is will and mike driving out if hawkins together, will being the passenger princess and he looks at mike and mike looks back and they both smile fondly and mike grabs his hand and will blushes and thats when he realizes "oh holy shit, im so happy right now i think my life is coming together finally" and he is so happy and excited to leave hawkins with the love of his life and when he turns back to the window he is smiling and happy and blushy instead of the past seasons of looking out the car window with sadness and ache he is finally happy and then the end credits go on WHAT THEN.

due to a few demands of seeing em together 💘 @drangues

I can't remember who made the post (whoever it was, let me know), but I'm thinking about how someone said El and Will both represent the different sides of fight or flight trauma responses. El is fight. Will is flight (or I guess freeze/flight).

El was taught to use violence growing up. Which is why her first instinct when looking danger in the eye or when she's upset about something is to typically get violent. I mean, we saw it when she threw Lucas off of Mike, when she melted those lab people's brains, when she threw those waffles and that book at Hopper and hit him with the couch, when she threw Max off her skateboard, and etc.

These are the two most recent examples.

El represents the "fight" aspect of fight of flight.

Will on the other hand has been shown time and time again to flee or freeze when faced with dangerous or upsetting situations. (And the two times he did stand his ground and "fight", he got kidnapped and possessed...so it makes sense for him to want to not fight anymore and to run). I mean we saw it when he ran away from the "Demogorgon" (before trying to fight and getting caught), he spent all of his time in the Upside Down running and hiding, he ran away from the Mind Flayer MANY times (obviously before following Bob's advice and getting possessed), and etc.

And two of his most recent examples is when El was getting bullied. He completely locked up.

Will represents the "flight/freeze" aspect of fight or flight.

I don't know...I just think it's interesting that Willel are on different sides of the spectrum when it comes to trauma responses and how they deal with dangerous or upsetting situations.

it's the first kiss, it's flawless, it's really something. it's fearless.

ok i am feeling fearless tonight, and thea byler first kisses are The Byler First Kisses so i am politely requesting a first kiss in the rain!

this was a VILE prompt to send in that i am so emotional about fearless (taylor's version) and byler and byler first kisses. i hate you so much. i hope you love it.

“Probably shouldn’t have taken our bikes, huh?” 

Will looks over at Mike, blinking rainwater out of his eyes – they’re standing under the awning of the entrance to the only bank in town, closed for the afternoon and completely free of any other miserable, rain-drenched suckers. The bikes in question are lying on their sides on the pavement, abandoned in their haste to get under cover. And Mike is completely soaked, dark hair plastered to his forehead and shirt clinging to hm probably just as uncomfortably as Will’s is sticking to his own skin, and he’s got this sheepish, guilty grin on his face. It had been his idea to take their bikes, hadn’t it? Something about we only have a few weeks left of this weather, Will and let’s enjoy the summer sun, Will and it’s only a twenty percent chance of rain, Will, we’ll be fine. 

Famous last words. 

“Well, it was only a twenty percent chance of rain,” Will points out, doing a bad job of suppressing a smile of his own. This one, though, is less in the realm of guilty, and more in the realm of, I told you so, idiot. "How could we have known?"

Mike shoves at him, a playful brush of wet skin on wet skin, and Will laughs. “Shut up,” Mike says, but he’s still smiling. He reaches a hand up, tangling his fingers in his hair as he brushes it up and off of his forehead, and Will immediately looks away, biting his lip – he shouldn’t think Mike looks cool right now. In actuality, Mike looks like a drowned rat; in actuality, Mike is the reason that they’re stranded here, soaked from the rain; in actuality, none of that makes Will want to kiss him any less.

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Mike is asking now, somehow heard over the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the sound of all the blood in Will’s body rushing all at once to his ears. He crosses his arms over his chest, resolutely staring at the empty office building across the street, at the trees in boxed planters swaying in the wind – anywhere but Mike, willing his heart rate to go back to normal.

“Check your phone,” Will suggests, doing a very good job of keeping his voice even and steady. “Hot tip: if there’s a little rain cloud under the number, that means it’s still going to rain.”

He doesn’t have to look to know that Mike is rolling his eyes. “Really living up to your name, o’ Will the Wise,” he says, and then presumably turns his attention to digging his phone out of the wet, gross pocket of his jeans – or at least, that’s what Will guesses he’s doing. He still won’t look at him, so he wouldn’t really know, but there’s a lapse in conversation that Will can only attribute to looking at the weather app. “It’s only going to last for another half hour,” Mike declares, affirming Will’s assumptions. 

Will lets out a scoff. “Let me see,” he says, more aggressive than he intends to be, but he doesn’t trust Mike’s assessment of the weather at the moment, thank you very much. Good thing Mike has no interest in meteorology, because Will would have way too much fun bursting that bubble. 

In a feat that has taken years of a mixture of natural talent and diligent practice, Will manages to avoid looking at Mike directly, instead just looking at the raindrop-smeared screen of his phone.  Fortunately for Will, Mike is actually right – the app does show that the rain is going to clear in thirty minutes, the forecast free of tiny thunderclouds for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately for Will, his herculean efforts of not looking at Mike are thwarted completely by standing so close to Mike that he can feel the body heat radiating off of him, and he literally jumps back, cheeks burning.

Smooth. He still won’t look at Mike, but he can tell Mike is looking at him, now. Great.

“You’re jumpy,” Mike comments, sounding amused. 

“I’m not jumpy,” Will barks back, rocking back and forth on his heels, which is almost jumping. He plants his feet to the ground instantly, standing as still as possible. 

“You are,” Mike says, taking a step closer to Will, who immediately steps away from him in – well, in a jumpy way. Damn it. “You’re like a little rabbit.” 

Will flushes something violent, his cheeks burning with it, and this is not what he had in mind when he was urging his respiratory system to act normally around Mike Wheeler, please, for once in our pathetic life. 

“I am not,” he says haughtily, still refusing to look at him. 

“You are,” Mike insists, reaching out to grab at Will by the waist. Will yelps and hops away from him, out from under the cover of the awning and nearly tripping over a nearby parking block. Mike laughs at him. “See?” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket and taking another step towards Will, who hops backwards out of his reach, involuntarily proving Mike’s point. “Bunny rabbit behavior.” 

“Because you’re trying to grab me,” Will seethes, no real heat to it, taking several steps back as Mike steps out into the rain after him. “Go away.” 

Mike only smiles wider, lunging for Will again with his arms stretched out. His fingers brush the wet fabric of Will’s soaked t-shirt, but on account of it being wet and Will once again jumping away from him, he doesn’t quite get a hold on him. 

“Bunny behavior,” Mike repeats, a gleeful sing-song, and Will flips him off. 

“I hate you,” Will spits out, dodging another grab attempt. 

“You don’t,” Mike says. 

“I do,” Will insists, letting out another yelp as Mike comes after him again. He does more than jump away this time, trying to beat the bunny allegations, and instead turns to run towards the other side of the parking lot. 

Mike makes a noise of protest, and Will glances over his shoulder to see Mike start after him. “Come back!” he calls out, following Will’s path through the parking lot, “I’m not agile enough for this!” 

“Not my fault!” Will yells back, though he’s not having much luck, either, the oil from the asphalt of the parking lot working together with the rain to make him slip and slide all over the place. Mike is working against the same conditions, but even with Will’s head start, Mike and his stupid long legs make the distance between them a lot closer than Will would like. “Oh my God,” he screams, jumping away from yet another close call, “get away from me, you freak!” 

“You’re just mad that I caught up to you,” Mike laughs, and then immediately slips in a puddle. It would be funny, except it sends him sliding forward, and his momentum is too quick for Will to react on time – which lets Mike crash right into him, grabbing at the clinging fabric of Will’s t-shirt for dear life. 

“Yes,” Will grits out, trying to squirm out of his grip, but Mike’s hold is firm, “I’m very, very mad. Let go.” 

“Nah,” Mike says, pulling Will closer and spinning them around, their sneakers sloshing with every step. Will grips onto Mike’s biceps, fingernails digging in for some sort of purchase on his wet skin, desperately trying not to topple over backwards and take Mike with him. “I like you right here.” 

They’re close – so, so close – but Will won’t look up, fixing his gaze on Mike’s bony shoulder and the way his shirt clings to it, almost transparent. The rain beats down on them, flattening Will’s hair against his forehead and sending a cascade of water dripping into his eyes, but he doesn’t care. It beats the alternative. 

“You’re an idiot,” he accuses Mike’s shoulder, furiously blinking against the onslaught of rainwater. 

“You like me, anyway,” Mike answers easily, fondly, hopefully. “You like me so much.” 

Despite himself, this makes Will tip his head back to look up at Mike, rain be damned, because that’s not the way a friend says those words. And that’s certainly not the way a friend looks at a friend, either. 

Will blinks, and the entire day restructures itself in Will’s head: Mike, calling him at noon, insisting he find his bike, because he’d be over in twenty; Mike, almost crashing into a fire hydrant, because he’d been too busy looking at Will to pay attention to where he was going; Mike, paying for his meal at the burger joint they’d gone to for lunch, a normal occurrence; Mike, constantly tapping his foot against Will’s beneath the table, brushing Will’s ankle with his toe, something that’s never happened before. 

And then there was Mike, insisting they go grab ice cream and share it, so that they could get the most bang for their buck; and there was Mike, offering his same spoon to Will, waving off Will’s halfhearted concern about germs; and there was Mike, lying back in the grass with him, his body angled towards Will as he let Will ramble about the portfolio he’s preparing for his college admissions; and there was Mike, who offered to bike back with Will all the way to his house, even though it was in the wrong direction from Mike’s own. 

This entire day has been a date. He payed for Will’s food, and played footsie with him, and shared his ice cream, and happily listened to Will rant, and chased him in the rain, and, and – Mike took Will on a date, and Will didn’t even notice until right now. 

Maybe they’re both idiots.

“I do,” Will says now, squinting up at Mike through the rain. He lifts one of his hands from Mike’s bicep to Mike’s hair, ignoring the way that it shakes in favor of pushing Mike’s hair back off of his forehead again. He lets his fingers card through the wet strands, traveling from Mike’s hairline all the way around his scalp so that his hand is resting at the nape of Mike’s neck, its tremor slight, but still there. His voice is steady, though. Braver than he feels. “I do like you so much.”

Mike’s hold on him tightens, pulling Will forward so that their torsos are pressed up against each other, and any and all nerves get washed away with the rain. Holding tight onto that courage and running with it, he uses his grip as leverage to pull Mike’s face down to his, stands on his tiptoes, and brings Mike’s mouth to his.

The first thing Will registers is that wet, the rainwater catching between them, but as Mike’s mouth moves against his, gently pressing for something beyond the static stack of lips on top of lips, the kiss bursts with new sensation. Mike’s mouth is warm, stark but welcome against the chill of the rain, and the strawberry flavor from his ice cream from earlier makes itself known in the next brush of their lips, bringing a sweetness Will hadn’t expected. It’s soft, slick, sweet, and somehow – shy yet fearless, all at once. 

Will lowers himself back to the ground, breaking the contact but bringing Mike down with him. He holds his face close and just breathes him in, all sweet strawberry breath and the fresh muskiness of petrichor and somewhere beneath them both, that same generic bath soap Mike’s mom has been buying for him as long as Will has known him. It’s a mix of old and new and Mike, Mike, Mike, and best of all, it’s his. It’s his. 

“For the record,” Mike says, his breath fanning out across Will’s face, and through the haze, Will wonders why he was trynig to get away from Mike earlier when this is so much better, “I like you so much, too.” 

Will smiles, big and wide and bright enough to banish the storm clouds, but he doesn’t want them to leave. He’s not ready to give this moment up, not yet.

“Good,” he says, bringing his other arm up to wrap around Mike’s neck. Mike’s thumbs brush at his hips through the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and Will shudders, the feeling soaking him to the bone in a way the rain could never hope to manage. “Kiss me about it.”

And as certain as the rain falling down all around them – Mike does, and does, and does.